So we’re selling the flat. Or trying to. “It’s a buyers market”, so I’m told – with a patronising description of what that actually means. “It means there are more buyers than sellers!” No S*** Sherlock.

This means that I have rather unwillingly been thrust into the dirty world of estate agents. Suffice to say that after nearly three weeks of dealing with 12 year olds acting like they do the most important job in the world whilst wearing a) the most ill-fitting shiny suits in the world – boys b) the shortest Primark skirts whilst pretending they’re Prada in the world – girls, I’m sick to the back teeth with the whole thing.

I’m not saying they’re not very bright, but no one ever became an estate agent because they got too many A levels. So far I’ve caught them out lying, cheating, double-crossing and screwing each other over. And it’s only week 3. I don’t know why I’m surprised when they have such a bad reputation, but I really have been astounded at how they have, without exception, confirmed all the negative stereotypes that make them one of the most hated professions out there.